Shorts, Drabs and Outs
by bmango
Summary: Collection of drabble arcs, one-shots or outtakes. Mostly written for birthdays. Different POVs, pairings, slash, AH, canon... a little of everything.
1. EchoesOfTwilight's drabbles

_**A/N:**__ This is the first chapter in my collection of random drabbles, O/S and outtakes. The pairings for each will be at the top and why they were written. Thanks for reading!_

_These drabbles were written for **EchoesatTwilight**'s birthday. Big thanks to **theladyingrey42** for the prompts and the beta-job! This is some Jasper and Edward slashy goodness.  
_

_

* * *

_

..

.

**Angle**

I crouch on the sidewalk edge, feeling the breeze on my back from the traffic. Squinting at the screen again, I try to catch the angle of the sun shining off the building of glass and steel above me.

I exhale and hit the shutter release, then put my glasses on to see the result.

I curse when I see auburn hair destroying the shot. The sun slips behind a cloud and I have, once again, missed the opportunity.

I growl in frustration and turn to kick something, anything, but I'm suddenly distracted by bronze hair in disarray over concerned deep green eyes.

..

.

**Slender**

My anger melts as he mumbles his apologies, long fingers tugging through his hair in a nervous manner, eyes looking everywhere but at me.

My brain almost automatically wonders what those slender fingers could do elsewhere. How they would feel grasping my body.

I cough quickly to dispel the images and clear my head.

He's the complete opposite of me. I notice his suit is crisp, clean, well-tailored, a dichotomy to my slightly rumpled jeans and t-shirt. He lives in his office, while I live for my art. He's just a stiff, boring business man.

With eyes that I want to wake up to.

..

.

**Flicker**

He's still stumbling over his words as I have forgotten to speak, my tongue tied for once in my life.

"No worries, man," I assure him.

I dig through my camera bag and find only a slightly crumpled card. His eyes flicker to my trembling fingers as I hold it out to him.

He takes it and reads it quickly before looking back up at me.

"If you want, I'd like to have lunch."

He says nothing but puts the card in his pocket. He nods once and turns on his heel and into the metal monstrosity towering over us. Cullen Enterprises.

..

.

**Flutter**

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks of nothing.

Two weeks of my imagination running wild with thoughts of his fingers touching me, his verdant eyes gazing intently into mine, his full lips pressed against me.

By this point, I know I must have read him wrong. His eyes did not linger on me, nor did his tongue lick his lips slower than necessary.

My phone rings and I answer quickly without looking. My heart stops when I hear the voice I've been dreaming of sigh my name.

Again he says "Jasper?"

And I realize I haven't answered again.

"Yes."

"Did you still want to-"

Anything.

..

.

**Reflect**

We meet for lunch, a very safe option. No pressure with a goodnight, no awkward kisses, just "I have to get back to work. See ya."

He chooses the meal.

I choose a small bistro overlooking the lake, the waves gently lapping at the wharf. I pick a table by the railing to guarantee an unobstructed view.

He arrives and I'm once again struck by his beauty, but this time his eyes are smiling as is his mouth. The water reflects the sunlight in rippling waves across his face as I drink him in.

Next time I don't want safe.

I want that kiss.

..

.

**Drift**

I watch his eyes as we talk about nothing in particular. My fingers gather the moisture from the side of my iced tea and soon I feel cool rivulets trail across my palm.

I take a long drink, appreciating that even a Chicago bistro can make decent sweet tea. When I set it down, I catch Edward paused in mid-sentence, his mouth slack and his eyes far away.

I smirk. He shakes his head slightly and tugs his hair with his long fingers.

Could he be as affected?

I dare to hope his thoughts are drifting along the same path as mine.

..

.

**Depth**

We begin to talk over the next few days, late night discussions and diatribes on all topics; nothing is sacred. We converse easily about music and film, politics and religion.

One late night, all barriers disappear and I delve head-first into the topic of my past, wanting him to know everything about me. He tries to reciprocate, but his words are seemingly torn from his heart, pieces of his soul tumbling from his mouth. His singular experience, his only love, was tarnished with hurt and shame.

I cringe at his apprehension over new relationships, desperately hoping I can teach him something different.

..

.

**Smooth**

Our second date is a restaurant I don't know. Something upscale, fancy.

I await him at our reserved table, my tie too tight, my jacket too heavy. I glance at my watch again.

Have I scared him away already? Have I been played for a fool again?

It's almost too much and I'm about to gather my things and leave but then I feel a shift in the air. He's here. I can breathe again.

Then he's standing before me. Soothing words, deepest apologies, smooth fingers spreading over mine.

He gazes at me earnestly, asking forgiveness.

"Of course, Edward. No worries."

..

.

**Silk**

He walks me to my door, ever the perfect gentleman, and I gently brush my fingers against his, amazed at my excitement in even the smallest touch. He shivers slightly at my side and I'm happy he is equally affected.

"Edward, want to come in?"

He looks up at me, insecurity, anxiety pouring off of him.

"Whatever you want," I reassure. And he nods, linking our hands before following me.

After closing the door, instantly my hands are tugging on his silken hair, our tongues entwining.

The heat rapidly builds between us and I can no longer take the suspense.

"Stay?"

..

.

**Gentle**

Eventually, I lead him to my room and I know instinctively that I must go slow with him. I may have had some disappointments, a few betrayals, but this man was hurt. Badly.

"We can stop," I suggest, but he doesn't.

He pulls me closer and I groan as our hard lengths grind together with the motion of his hips.

I gently remove every last scrap of his clothing, bathing his body in reverence and desire. I nibble and suck until he's straining below me. I trail my fingers over his cock.

"Please Jasper. I need your mouth on me," he moans.

..

.

**Arch**

His body arches as he pulses in my mouth, his screams of pleasure echoing off the walls.

He calms and I slide up him to eye level, wondering if I've pushed him too far.

"Come here," he orders, pulling me onto him, kissing me fiercely, the near electric spark between us intensifying.

"I didn't know it could be like that," he mumbles against my lips.

"Oh, it can be so much more," I insist. "Let me show you."

He tenses under me and I hope I haven't ruined everything. But then he nods, smiling softly.

"I think I would like that."

..

.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!_


	2. Naelany's drabbles

_**A/N:**__ This drabble arc was written for **Naelany**'s birthday. Big thanks to **theladyingrey42** and **SorceressCirce **for the prompts and for looking these over for me. It's Edward and Jasper slashy vamp goodness.  
_

_

* * *

_

..

.

**Leaf**

I run through the forest, leaves swirling in my wake, exhilaration pouring through me.

Running is the only time I feel free. No thoughts invading my mind, no thirst scouring my throat.

Nothing but me, my strength and my thoughts.

But then there is something new in the air. A foreigner. Another vampire.

I skid to a halt in a small clearing and he approaches cautiously on the opposite side.

"Hello, stranger," I greet, pretending I'm more friendly than I am.

I can sense his curiosity but strangely his thoughts are clouded.

"Why are you threatened by me?" he questions.

..

.

**Scarlet**

I move forward confidently into the clearing, trying to prove him wrong, and possibly approaching him faster than I should, slight panic and warning rising in his mind.

As I cross the middle of the clearing the wind shifts and he flinches, his scarlet eyes widening slightly and I stop again. The sun reflects off my skin and I see the light dancing across his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean any harm." I extend my hands in supplication.

"No, but I might."

He sighs heavily and turns with one last glance over his shoulder.

And then, he is gone.

..

.

**Aroma**

I race to the glade's edge, his scent lingering in the air, so heady I can almost taste him in my mouth. Inexplicably, my thoughts turn to desire, an uncommon pulse in my groin.

For days I resolve to let him be, to deny my constant longing to see him again. He'd spoken only ten words to me. I still thought I had a choice. But no.

He is the one.

I run through the woods every day, somehow feeling closer to him there. Then I stumble upon it. His mouthwatering aroma pulls me forward.

I find his cabin. Empty.

..

.

**Message**

Warring with myself and pacing in the woods, I know I must make a decision.

My existence has been perpetual and wandering loneliness, but his appearance has changed my very being. I can't go back, but I don't know how to move forward.

I know he won't make the first move.

Pulling at my hair and clenching my jaw, I crouch to the ground. My decision made, I straighten and stride forward.

He'll only consider this if I leave myself vulnerable, too.

In his cabin, I discover paper and pen and write.

_I need you to find me, too. ~Edward_

_.._

_.  
_

**Receive**

On the third day, there is a presence at my door, a pull like gravity dragging me forward. There is no escape, only him.

I open the door to find him there, his eyes worried and mind troubled, a roiling boil of emotions and muted thoughts.

"I'm not whole," he whispers, shame closing his eyes.

"Yes, but you will be."

He looks up at me with his crimson eyes, hope emerging above all.

"What I've done..."

"We all do what we must. It doesn't have to be like that."

"Teach me," he begs. "But go slow."

And so I do.

..

.

**Humble**

Letting him in my door is the biggest step for both of us.

I teach him about my lifestyle, my way of feeding without hearing the pain in my victims' thoughts. His empathic abilities so closely mirroring my own and causing him a lifetime of inescapable agony.

He accepts my assistance with no hesitance and I'm humbled by his immediate trust of me.

"I know you won't hurt me, Edward."

I lay a hand gently on his shoulder and he flinches involuntarily. I withdraw quickly. "Never intentionally, Jasper."

He grasps my hand and returns it to his skin. "I know."

..

.

**Glint**

Leaping over the boulder, I land on the cougar, feeling its surging muscles beneath me. My teeth slice effortlessly through flesh and I greedily drain it.

A twig snaps and I glance up, finding his amber eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun.

He smirks, crouching before jumping at me. I dodge him easily and we play our game, tugging, wrestling, throwing each other through the forest.

I'm distracted by his grace for a moment and he pins me against a tree. Leaning close from behind he whispers, "I have a surprise for you."

I smile, but he's already gone.

..

.

**Ticket**

As the sun dips below the horizon, the kitchen is empty, although his scent still lingers. On the table is a card with his familiar flowing script.

"I know you have been denied your human weaknesses while helping me adjust. Let me indulge you."

A small, worn, yellow scrap of paper flutters to the floor. A cinema ticket.

Warmth passes through my chest, an ache I can't quite place. Eagerness replaces hesitation as I pick it up and follow his nervous thoughts.

In the living room, I find a movie projector, a screen, two recliners.

And my anxiously smiling Jasper.

..

.

**Float**

As Ginger and Fred float across the screen, I watch in still, wide-eyed wonder but my thoughts are racing. He did this for _me_.

I smile broadly as I think of all the things I want to do for him.

_To_ him.

"What's that smile for?" he questions.

If I were still human, I'd be blushing.

Instead I stand, deciding to take a chance. "Dance with me?"

He rises silently, taking my hand and pulling me into his chest. The steady warmth suddenly builds into a blazing inferno.

"Jasper," I whisper, so much longing in one word.

"Yes, Edward. Yes."

..

.

**Candle**

His body moves over me, around me, in me, bringing me to the heights of pleasure as I've never experienced before.

Unwillingly, my eyes squeeze shut as I scream my release and I feel him pulse inside me, our emotions and thoughts melding and blending into one.

He collapses onto my heaving chest and we hold each other tightly for minutes, hours.

Eventually he lifts his face, and I gently brush his golden hair back from his eyes, a single candle casting a flickering light on his beautiful features.

"I am yours, Jasper."

He leans down, kissing me tenderly. "Forever."

..

.

* * *

_Man, these drabble arcs are kind of fun... Hope you enjoyed!_


	3. LyricalKris's drabbles

_**A/N:** This drabble arc is for the lovely and talented **LyricalKris** for her birthday. Hope you have a wonderful day, bb (in Alaska...)! The pairing is Edward X Bella this time... (See, I **can** write canon pairings). Big thanks and smooches to my lovely beta-fish **theladyingrey42** for everything._

_..  
_

* * *

.

**Fall**

I watch as the moving van pulls away and turn back to face the mountains of boxes in my house.

_My_ house.

This is the start of my new life. My new beginning.

I square my shoulders wondering if I can even do this alone.

But I have no choice now.

I open a box and stare for a moment at the smiling people behind the glass. I trace my finger along her beautiful face and try to stop the sorrow from overwhelming me once again.

A small splash falls on the picture and I return the frame to the box.

Maybe tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a new day.

..

.

**Melt**

Tomorrow becomes Monday which becomes a week of ignoring boxes. I've unpacked only the essentials: clothes, dishes... soap.

But the rest I can't open yet. There are books she'll never read, movies she'll never watch. Even though I now have a library with plenty of shelves, I can't bring myself to unpack.

My heart skips a beat when there is a soft knocking on the door. I open it to find curious, wide brown eyes, long brown hair.

"Hi, I'm Bella. Your next door neighbor?"

I don't respond, unsure what to do, but she continues anyway.

"I brought cookies. They're still warm."

..

.

**Pull**

I shuffle to the side and I watch her swallow hard before she moves into my space, evaluating the still unopened boxes but heading unerringly to the kitchen.

"Your house is similar to mine," she continues although I have yet to speak.

She turns to me when I follow.

"Tea? Or milk if you prefer?"

I pause, trying to figure this woman out, still too shocked to speak.

"To go with the cookies?"

I pull out two wide-mouthed glasses and fill them with milk.

"Thank you..." She looks at me expectantly and I suddenly find my voice.

"Edward."

"Thank you, Edward."

..

.

**Quiet**

My long time friend, silence, returns when the door closes.

But when I look around, her presence is still here.

Her empty glass, the plate of cookies.

I glance through the window in the study and I see her lights still on, like beacons in the dark.

Why did I let her in after so many months of shutting everyone out?

Why is the first time I speak not out of bare necessity to her?

What is it about her unassuming presence that makes the hurt a little less sharp, my guilt less overpowering?

Even though I can't, I want to see her again.

..

.

**Shine**

The next weeks are painful as I try a thousand different ways to make myself walk to her house.

Her plate is clean and sitting on my counter. Taunting me.

Finally I resolve to return it and make my way between our houses, the lights blazing from her windows. I knock with purpose and hear her voice call out.

The door flies open and I'm stunned to silence again. She's breath-taking.

I shake my head slightly and hold up the plate. She smiles and invites me in.

I stand unmoving, indecision warring in my head.

I don't deserve a second chance.

Her smile falters. I step inside.

..

.

**Lantern**

So it begins, neighborly visits, brownies on Tuesday, lemonade on Saturday afternoon.

And her quiet questions.

Where did you come from? What do you do in this sleepy town?

Why haven't you unpacked those boxes?

This unassuming woman, full of sweetness and good can't and shouldn't be darkened by me.

But she continues to shine her light in all the forgotten corners, forcing me to remember. Forcing me to live.

One afternoon I come home to dinner already prepared, books on the shelves, pictures on display.

"You can't keep your past locked away."

Her face blurs through my unshed tears.

"Let me in, Edward."

..

.

**Purple**

And I do.

I tell her about the woman who I was going to love forever.

I tell her about the fatal crash, her body mangled and crushed, that I identified her bruised and broken body.

I tell her I ran from everything I knew.

But it wasn't enough.

I am still haunted.

"Edward, hiding from your past and her won't make the demons disappear."

I know she's right, but I can't face those memories just yet. "I'm trying," I choke out.

"I know," she whispers before enveloping me in a tight hug, the first human touch I have endured in so long. "I know."

..

.

**Cold**

When she leaves, the cold night air filtering through the open window feels like a slap against my skin.

All the emotions I keep a tight seal on are slipping out, moving through me unhindered.

Finally, I can feel.

I collapse on the floor, emotions cresting and breaking over me in storm waves.

I am drowning, gasping for air.

Suddenly there is warmth surrounding me and soothing noises, arms holding me together, whispers pleading with me to surface again.

I cling to the security of her, the steadying presence of her heartbeat bringing me back to shore.

"Bella...," I croak.

"Shh, I'm here. I'm not leaving."

..

.

**Alone**

I find her lonely marker in the sea of granite tombstones. Taking a stuttering breath, I sink to my knees.

"It's okay, Edward. You don't have-"

"No, I do." But I'm silent until I feel a gentle squeeze on my shoulder.

Words just flow from me. I apologize for not being stronger, for not saving her, for not taking her keys, for everything I didn't stop.

The guilt lessens inch by inch with my confessions and Bella's presence behind me.

I stand, feeling a lightness in my chest I never thought I would deserve. I can breathe again.

I am free.

..

.

**Rain**

Another season has passed, another spring has come. We sit on the porch sipping tea, watching the gentle rainfall.

A year ago today, I moved here looking for an escape from death.

Instead, I found life. Or I should say, she found me.

I pull Bella closer, remembering that night of warm cookies and awkward silences.

She smiles at me, threading our fingers together.

Now as then, her smile pulls me from my self-imposed isolation, her touch warming my soul.

Passionate kisses and the ring in my pocket are my as yet unspoken promises. To give her all of myself, every day of forever.

..

.

* * *

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LYRICALGENIUS! :)


	4. Ahizelm's drabbles

**A/N:** These slashy drabbles were written in collaboration with **YogaGal** for **ahizelm**'s birthday, cuz we love her. And I wanted to do something a little different.

**IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTANDING THE ARC:** Yoga wrote the first drabble, playing with Edward and then bmango took on Jasper for the second, etc etc. Each drabble alternates between author/POV.

Big thanks to **theladyingrey42** for beta-ing.

* * *

**Smoke**

"What did I tell you motherfuckers about smoking right in front of the shop?" I growl at the teens who use my brick wall for their hangout.

The haze of cheap cigarette smoke clings to me as I unlock the door, and I wonder if there's a spare shirt in the back. Trying to calm my pissy attitude, I grab the client schedule from the front desk and see what I have lined up for the rest of the night. A few of the names look familiar - repeat clients. But there's one that I know I haven't seen before.

.

**Bubbling**

As the end of my workday approaches, I keep an eye on the ticking second hand, my anxiety reaching new levels with each moment.

When I made the appointment, I'd been completely confident, my finger tracing the lines of the sketch. This is my promise, a vow I hope to never break.

I glance up at the clock again - only two minutes have passed. Once more, I push down the bubbling nervousness in my stomach, willing myself to calm.

Finally, the clock reads five and I am out of my office and in my car, pulling off my tie as I go.

.

**Room**

I'm in the back room, finishing off my third tat of the afternoon. The first two were easy. Good customers who sat there and let me do my work. This one? I'm already counting down the minutes till she's gone.

The perfume she's wearing makes the already small room feel suffocating, and she won't shut the hell up. I try my best to tune her out, focusing on the design in front of me.

Finally, it's done. I put on a smile while she shrieks and coos over her new butterfly, then dash out, escaping the room as quickly as possible.

.

**Chocolate**

An hour and a few errands later, I've finally managed to settle my nerves. Although, as I approach the building, the trepidation slowly builds once more.

I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that, for once, I am doing something for me. It's a step in the right direction for my new life of happiness.

I even almost believe the shit I'm thinking. I sigh and take the last bite of the chocolate bar I brought, stuffing the wrapper in my pocket. My hand wraps around the door handle, and I pause, taking a deep breath.

And I pull.

.

**Help**

After waving goodbye to Butterfly Girl, I hop up on the stool behind the counter and flip through a magazine until my next appointment shows up. It's been a slow day, so besides me, only Angela is in the shop. I sent her out a few minutes ago to run some errands.

I'm starting on a new article when I hear the bells on the door chime. Looking up, I see a guy enter looking scared shitless.

_Newbie._

But then, he looks up.

Fuck. Me.

I cross my fingers that he's my next appointment and finally speak.

"Can I help you?"

.

**Fantasy**

Bells tinkle overhead as I enter the tattoo parlor and I keep my eyes on the floor, steeling myself for what I'm about to do.

But then there's this voice, the gravelly tone straight from my fantasies, asking me the most ordinary question. I glance up quickly and meet vibrant green eyes staring directly into mine, and my shaking and stuttering simply fade away.

He's fucking beautiful.

"I'm Jasper Whitlock," I finally force out. "I have an appointment?" I want to bang my head on the counter as the last statement exits my mouth as a question.

Smirking slightly, he beckons me forward.

.

**Name**

"Jasper, eh?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting name."

He blushes, and his flushed skin looks fucking edible. I wonder how hot it will feel under my fingers. I watch as he shifts back and forth, unsure of how to answer.

Putting him out of his misery, I stick out my hand.

"Edward Cullen. And _you_ are mine."

His eyes widen at my words and I can't help but chuckle. Maybe I'm pushing him too far, but when his tongue darts out to lick his full lips, I can't be bothered to care.

"My next appointment," I clarify with a wink.

.

**Book**

My mouth stops working as the inked man, Edward he had called himself, continues to talk. Tongue dry, I can only reach into my pocket, pulling out the well-worn notebook and opening it wordlessly.

I step up to the counter and he leans forward, his fresh scent at odds with the dark ink on his arms, and I breathe deeply as he bends over the paper.

"Th-th-this..." I swallow hard and try again. "This is what I want."

He looks up at me sharply. "You drew this sketch?"

I nod, hoping I can stay true to the words on the paper.

.

**Smooth**

"Not bad."

What I really want to say is that it's a breath of fresh air from the stale, overdone tattoos I've been doing lately. It's not often that a client's sketch excites me. The intricacy of the words will look incredible done up in ink, and I can't wait to start.

My fingers move over the smooth paper, tracing the letters and envisioning them on Jasper's skin.

"Follow me," I grunt, leading him back towards where I work.

I motion for him to get comfortable in the leather chair while I make a stencil.

"Now. Where do you want it?"

.

**Stripes**

I knew where the tattoo would go before I had even finished the design.

I want the words "Trust In Myself" to lie directly over my heart, the ambigram a unique way of presenting the text and also ensuring that I can read it.

I lean forward, holding his gaze, and start unbuttoning my blue pinstriped shirt, shedding the last remnant of my required work attire before settling back in the chair once more.

"Here," I say as calmly as possible.

He stares intently into my eyes for a beat or two before glancing down at my finger and my bare chest.

.

**Yearn**

When he unbuttons his stuffy work shirt to show me where he wants the tat, I have to grip the bottle of ink that's in my hand so I don't inadvertently reach out and touch his skin. A glint of silver peeks out and I almost swallow my tongue when I realize the dude is pierced.

Mother. Fucker.

Something deep inside me yearns to feel him, and then suddenly I can't handle it anymore, and my hand is on his chest. Even through the thin latex of my gloves I can feel the smooth expanse of skin, hot under my fingers.

.

**Heat**

His fingers spreading across my skin sends a spike of heat through my chest, piercing dark places that have yearned for this touch.

I look up at him wondering if he feels my heart race, but his gaze stays steadfast on my skin.

"I'll shave the area, and then place the stencil," he says calmly, professionally.

I take a deep breath as he smooths his hand across my chest before efficiently removing the few pale hairs with a razor followed by a soapy cloth. He places the stencil with sure hands and then holds a mirror, smirking again at my approving nod.

.

**Melody**

The stencil on, I work quickly but efficiently. The steady hum of my gun forms a calming pace that guides me as I bring Jasper's sketch to life across his chest.

As I work, small grunts, sighs and even a moan spill from his slightly parted lips, providing the melody to the rhythm of the tat gun. I carefully fill in the letters that I've outlined, wiping away excess ink and small drips of blood from Jasper's firm chest.

His eyes are closed for the most part, but every so often he opens them, his piercing blue eyes capturing my gaze.

.

**Skin**

There is a steady burning, brushing on uncomfortable, but not quite entering into the realm of pain.

Edward's hands press against my chest, the heat penetrating through his gloves and searing me just as permanently as the ink that is etched into my skin.

The burn and his touch are almost too much, and I bite my tongue to stifle a moan as I grip the chair and close my eyes. I can't remember when I was this turned on from simple touch, and I don't want it to end.

Too soon he's leaning back, examining his work.

"Ready?" he asks, eyebrow arching.

.

**Scotch Whiskey**

I hold my breath as he takes it in, examining my work in the mirror. While I want my clients to like what I do, there's something about Jasper that makes me hope he _loves _it.

His silence kills me, so I turn around and grab a bottle of scotch whiskey that I keep in the cabinet. Jasper was my last appointment, so having a drink now won't kill me. I pour myself two fingers and take a slow sip, allowing the amber liquid to burn down my throat.

While I wait, I notice that I subconsciously took out another glass.

.

**Rough**

I run my fingers over the red and black skin, loving the clean lines of the script across my chest. I turn slowly, finding Edward sipping whiskey from a glass, another waiting on the counter.

"Care for a drink?"

"Actually, that sounds perfect." I accept the glass, taking a sip, the rough, smokey fire complimenting the burn in my body and my skin.

He licks his lips, and I have the urge to taste the whiskey in his mouth, knowing his flavor will only enhance it. Swallowing hard, I look back into my half-full glass, attempting to gather my flagging courage.

.

**Fuzzy**

Before Jasper has finished his first, I've already downed a second glass and am sipping a third. The small room we're in feels even smaller all of a sudden, especially as Jasper moves closer towards me.

I want to say something...but my mind is all fuzzy thanks to the whiskey. My tongue twists even further when I feel the heat of Jasper's arm. He's moved to lean against the counter, his body now flush against mine.

"Another?" he asks, holding out his glass. "Please."

I realize that I'll have to reach across his body to grab the bottle.

I oblige happily.

.

**Glisten**

With my glass refilled, I gulp the whiskey, trying to calm myself internally.

_Come on, Jasper. This is right. Trust yourself. _

Taking one more deep breath I turn to him and find him already gazing intently at me, his green eyes clear and almost beckoning. His tongue slowly wets his lips, and his glistening, red mouth is impossible for me to resist any longer.

I lean in, feeling his warm, sweet smoky breath fan across my face, and then there is only heat. Our lips touch, my hand wrapping around his bicep as I hear the clink of his glass hitting the counter.

.

**Edge**

The whiskey is forgotten as Jasper's lips capture mine. My hands come up to cup his face, giving me a better hold on him. He feels so soft beneath my rough fingers, and I stroke his cheek as our lips taste and tease each other.

We kiss until I'm forced to breathe, but I don't move far. I pull back so that our lips are touching, but I'm still able to take a deep inhale. With my exhale, I move my hands down to Jasper's pants and pull him closer by his belt loops, taking us both toward the edge.

.

**Eager**

I fall into him, eagerly jumping into the unknown with him like I have too many times before. It's only the twinge of pain as my chest brushes his that brings me back to reality.

I take a small step back, worried that this is one-sided, this feeling of rightness.

He looks at me curiously and touches my cheek.

"You want me?" he asks, a certain vulnerability crossing his face.

I touch my chest, my message clear. "Yes," I answer. "With everything."

"Everything," he repeats smiling, eyes dancing.

Gently this time, he pulls me into our second kiss - our first of many to come.


	5. Tuesdaymidnight's Inspiration

_**A/N:** I wrote this little, dirty one-shot for the lovely **tuesdaymidnight** who sent out a call for a story with a picture (see link below, remove spaces and add in actual dots). How could I resist? Warnings: This is slash, my first shot at BDSM and is nothing but PWP. Thanks to **theladyingrey42** for the quick look through. Any mistakes are mine, but Twilight is not._

http: / / 27(dot)media(dot)tumblr(dot)com / tumblr_lk2uvyOmYg1qd3k14o1_500(dot)jpg

..

* * *

..

I walk into our apartment after another grueling practice to find nothing but stillness and dark, the curtains pulled across the windows and only slivers of the evening light escaping around the thick cloth.

A single square of paper on the immaculate counter grabs my attention immediately, and my cock lengthens in my shorts as I read the few brief words in his fine, neat script.

_My boy,_

_Bedroom floor. Naked ass only._

My breathing picks up as I drop my gym bag at my feet and walk calmly but as quickly as I can toward our bedroom. Before I cross the threshold, I drop my shorts and jockstrap, leaving my socks, shoes and jersey shirt in place. Upon entering our space, I notice the drapes are also drawn in here, darkness cloaking the room except for a thin shaft of light slicing across the floor. I can smell him in the air as if he has just vacated the room, and my pulse races as I try to calm my thoughts, my hopes of what he has planned.

I know that my lover, my Jasper will take care of me. As my Master, he always does.

There are ropes around one leg of the small couch, and it's been moved to face the foot of the bed. There is a single black cushion removed from the loveseat, and it sits on the floor half way between the couch and the bed, the light from the window falling across it almost like a spotlight.

I know that is my place.

I cross the room to the pillow, kneel on it and wait, my hands resting on my thighs and my head bent forward with my eyes on the floor in front of me. I almost sigh as I feel him enter the room, a flare of warmth to my right as he emerges from the bathroom.

"Beautiful," he whispers as he approaches. He runs a hand through my tousled and still slightly sweaty hair, continuing his touch over my shirt and down my back. I silently curse the fabric over my skin as he speaks again. "Face down, arms up and legs spread. Cock on the cushion."

I follow his instructions without hesitation, laying prone with my hands stretched above my head, nearly reaching the rope around the couch leg. I feel small tugs on my left shoe as he loosens the laces before stretching my leg to the side, tying the laces to the bed post. He repeats the same action on my right leg before securing my hands with the rope.

"God, boy. You are so fucking beautiful for me," he whispers into the quiet.

Stretched before him, my ass in the air and my limbs restrained, I feel like I'm on display for him and I hope desperately he means what he says. I want to be beautiful for him.

Although he hasn't told me where to put my head, I place my forehead on the floor, breathing deeply through my nose and trying not to anticipate his next move. I hear a slight rustling and a click and then the rumbling, rough beats of heavy metal pulse through the room, effectively masking his sounds.

I start slightly when I feel his touch along my spine and skimming over my crack, his palm pressing against the flesh of my ass. I groan aloud when his hand travels between my legs, almost stroking, almost touching where I want him and where I know he won't go.

Yet.

Over the music I can still hear small clinks and the sounds of metal as he decides what implements to use from his drawers of toys. Every time we play, this here is perhaps the height of my emotional experience. The anticipation eating into me, my eagerness to be good and the surety that he will take care of me even if I'm not. After this moment, emotion disappears as it all condenses down into sensation. His touch, his voice, his scent. That is all I will know.

But these few seconds, every feeling and thought are focused on him and the potential of tonight's experience.

And then he touches me, soft leather flowing over my back before his hand connects with my ass, a brief but powerful slap followed by a soothing touch. The strands of the flogger wrap over my hips, small stings against my skin. My world is reduced to these small points of pain that quickly fade, turning into a building ache of heat and want, my weeping erection pressed into the cushion under me.

As his hand and the flogger continue to assault my body, my mind sinks lower into sensation, all my thoughts abandoned for the thrill of pure touch, complete surrender to my lover.

"Look at you," he growls above me. "You are mine, entirely mine."

He always knows the moment I give in. I groan in response, and I hear a small snap before two fingers are pressed into me, my ass rising almost of its own accord to encourage the penetration.

"You whore," he chastises, smacking my ass once more. "Beg me for it," he orders gruffly before changing his tone and reminding me. "Nicely."

"Please, sir. Oh, please fuck me," I beg, wanting him more than anything, wanting him to find his pleasure with me.

"I don't know. Have you been a good boy?" he asks quietly, his slick fingers still moving slowly in and out, bending to hit my prostate with almost every pass.

"I hope so, sir." And I can feel the building pressure in my body, in my balls. I start reciting states and capitols, knowing I need to calm myself down, but it's been too long since we've done this, since we've had time to play.

"I can almost hear the thoughts racing through your mind, Edward. Let it go for now." He runs his other hand under my shirt and over my spine as he begins scissoring his fingers. "Let me take care of you."

"Yes, sir," I repeat, feeling the emotion gripping my throat.

"That's right, boy. Just let go," he repeats.

His fingers disappear for a moment before I feel a dildo slide into me, my overworked nerves almost exploding as he slowly penetrates me with the toy. I rock back against him as much as my bindings will allow and a low whimper escapes my throat.

"Oh, you want this, do you my little slut?" he chuckles.

I shake my head while still pushing back with my ass.

"No? You could have fooled me," he replies, pushing the dildo harder, beginning to thrust it into me, twisting it to find the spot that will make me come in seconds.

"I want _you_," I manage to pant out, still shaking my head as he pushes me further, past the point of no return.

"Not yet, my sweet boy." I feel his breath on my skin for a moment. "Come for me," he orders, sinking his teeth into my burning and red ass.

And without a second of hesitation, I do. Like his good boy, I do. Screaming and panting and squirming, my body tenses as I thrust into the cushion below me, my belly becoming soaked and sticky. The dildo is removed quickly and I yearn for something more, something harder and thicker to fill me. My left shoe is suddenly removed and then his hands are at my wrists, loosening the ropes as he gently rubs the reddened skin. I am still completely slack and almost incoherent as he lifts me to my knees, raising my back to his chest and kneeling behind me between my legs before ripping my shirt off over my head.

And then we are together skin to skin, heat to heat. I feel his lips for a brief moment on the back of my neck and then his thick length, hot and wanting, pressed between us.

"Now," he whispers into my nape before tilting his hips and slamming into me in one swift stroke. The force almost topples me, but he holds me in his strong arms, wrapping one around my chest as the other finds my hip.

"Fuck... What you do to me." His words are just breath against my skin, and he sets a slow rhythm, pushing into me over and over. In spite of my recent release, I can feel myself hardening once more as he fucks me at a relentlessly even pace.

"Please, sir. Please," I continue to beg, feeling my erection straining at my hips once again.

"Please what, boy?" his deep voice caresses my ear.

"Harder, sir," I offer and then quickly add, "If it pleases you, sir."

"Tonight you are pleasing me greatly, boy." He shifts his weight back and I lean on his chest, my head lolling onto his shoulder as I let him do what he wants with my body. He bites my neck hard, and I moan as he sucks and licks the tender skin. "Greatly," he repeats, gripping my hips and increasing his thrusts, his hips slapping against the still heated skin of my ass, adding another layer to the already intense sensations.

Impossibly, I feel another orgasm already building in me, and I struggle to sit up slightly, changing the angle and allowing him greater access and depth to piston into me.

"That's it, boy. Take it, take all of me," he pants, his voice gravelly and low.

Always, I want to tell him. I will always take whatever he will give me.

"Fuck, you're going to make me come, boy." With that statement, I try to narrow my focus, feeling only his skin against mine and his sex pounding into me, knowing that he'll want me to come first. "Come, boy. And let me hear you," he orders.

With his permission granted, I allow the tingling feeling I've been trying to keep at bay explode until my whole body is consumed with the rush of my orgasm. My balls tighten against my body and, as my cock releases onto the cushion once again, I convulse against his strong chest and scream into the dark.

While I allow my body and my voice freedom, I feel him tense behind me, his thrusts erratic and his groan long and loud in my ear. We both collapse forward and I relish his weight on me, the comfort of his heated skin against mine as his breaths are hot and quick against my shoulder. After a few minutes, his now softening cock slips from me, and he places a quick kiss on my neck before he lifts himself off of me. I hiss as the colder air of the room hits the tender skin of my ass and legs and he chuckles quietly.

"Just a moment, boy. Lay still just a moment."

With another small click, the room falls into silence, and I can hear his movements in the bathroom and the water running. Soon, he returns to me, soft caresses of warm cloth and his hands over my back, ass and legs before he releases my remaining restraint, flipping me over gently and cleaning my front as well.

"Come to the bed," he says softly and offers me his hand. I smile as I slip my fingers against his, and he pulls me to my feet. With a firm grip around my waist, he leads me to our bed, laying me down across the duvet. "Flip," he orders but then rapidly adds, "please."

And with that one addition, I know we have finished our play as Master and boy and we are back to Jasper and Edward, lovers and partners. I smile again as I turn onto my stomach, hearing the jar of salve open before I feel those strong hands massaging away my aches. The last of the stress from the week leaves just as quickly.

"How did you know this was exactly what I needed?" I ask, basking in the warmth of his touch.

He laughs a little as I sigh in pleasure. "Lucky guess?" he teases and, as always, I am astonished at how easily we can shift between our roles.

"Mmmm," I hum as he kisses my cheek, and I turn quickly, capturing his lips with mine. He kisses me deeply as I turn under him, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him to me as his tongue strokes into my mouth. Eventually, our kisses slow and he pulls back. "Now everything is perfect," I say as I brush the fall of his hair from his eyes.

He turns his cheek into my palm, his eyes closing. "Yes," he says as he slides down and wraps his arms around me, placing his head on my chest. "Perfect."


End file.
